


Every Single Night Pray The Sun Will Rise

by TheForgottenDreams



Series: I Said 'I Love You' [13]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, M/M, Pinning Enjolras, Sleeping Grantaire, reflections, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7694404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForgottenDreams/pseuds/TheForgottenDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras glared at the red light of the alarm clock by his bed, it blinked back at him, obnoxiously flaunting the early morning and the fact he couldn’t sleep. He rolled over to ignore the offending clock, and saw as the moon filtered through the open curtains. The light fell onto the bed, highlighting Grantaire as the brunet slept soundly. </p>
<p>And, oh God, how was one man so beautiful?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Single Night Pray The Sun Will Rise

Enjolras glared at the red light of the alarm clock by his bed, it blinked back at him, obnoxiously flaunting the early morning and the fact he couldn’t sleep. He rolled over to ignore the offending clock, and saw as the moon filtered through the open curtains. The light fell onto the bed, highlighting Grantaire as the brunet slept soundly. 

And, oh God, how was one man so beautiful?

Enjolras couldn’t help his tired smile. He looked like a God, skin shining, looking ethereal, Enjolras felt like a mere mortal in his presence, always felt less grand compared to Grantaire who had so many talents and quirks that Enjolras loved wholeheartedly. He’d tried to count them all one day, but his mind supplied more, always more, there was his dancing, drawing, painting, singing, fencing, boxing, running, cooking, fucking, debating, guitar playing, pun making and that was just off the top of his head as he laid next to Grantaire.

He returned to the sheets bunched around Grantaire’s hips, eyes travelling along the brunet’s stomach, he loved the feel of Grantaire’s abs against his own stomach, licking along the tanned skin to make Grantaire cry out. He loved his hands, usually cold and chapped when they touched his own, calloused from all the activities he did, big and comforting, feeling like home when Enjolras held them. Loved trailing kisses up to his chest and neck, along his jaw, his jaw that set in that way when Grantaire was determined to prove a point. 

He loved his lips, so soft and pliant against his own, but also for the words they held, the arguments and points Enjolras had never even considered and his voice, his voice, singing, talking, moaning, it didn’t matter, whatever sound his made was beautiful, music in its own right. His eyes moved to Grantaire’s nose, crooked and broken from many fights, but no less beautiful. It marked his loyalty and fierce devotion to his friends, all of which Enjolras loved. From the kinks in his nose, Enjolras moved to his eyes, one green and one brown, the irises almost visible underneath the skin of his eyelids. Eyes that conveyed so much, so many emotions, so much pain and happiness, wonder and anxiety, so much of what Enjolras would love to believe was love. 

Then Grantaire shifted in his sleep, hair flayed out across the fabric and as Godly as the brunet appeared, Enjolras could visualise the devilish mischief in his eyes, in the way he talked, always with an opposing view to Enjolras, his words so witty and quick Enjolras was more often than not left completely speechless, in his touch as his fingers traced Enjolras skin, the stubble rash between Enjolras’ legs and on his jaw. 

Grantaire always called Enjolras martyr, for his cause but Enjolras was a martyr for Grantaire. Because Enjolras would do anything for Grantaire, he knew in his heart this was true and he also knew R wouldn’t do the same for him because he didn’t feel as strongly, didn’t return what the blond felt. And it wasn’t okay but it was enough to have Grantaire like this. Well, that’s what he told himself.

When Enjolras felt like this he thought maybe Grantaire was right when he said he’d never. Never make a change, never teach the people what’s wrong, never have an impact, never leave a legacy, never do good, never get to his goals. The nevers piled up, warped by his own mind. Never get more than what they had together, never have Grantaire in the way he wanted, never be loved, the brunet would never have enough time for him, never give him enough attention, never save him. Never, never, never. 

And yes, Enjolras knew full well he was a fool. A fool for paying this price for what he thought was love, a fool for putting up with this when he wasn’t happy, a fool for living for the moments when it seemed his feeling were reciprocated, a fool for hoping someone like Grantaire could love him, could want more than hotel rooms and whispers. He was a fool for not wanting to stop this, because it was better than the alternative. 

So he prayed. He prayed that every morning it would be alright, that every morning it would be enough, that every morning it would stop hurting when Grantaire left. He prayed and hoped and begged whatever entity may be watching over him for some kind of help, courage to tell Grantaire the truth or to end it, Enjolras wasn’t sure. He wanted the former option more than the other, but what if it led to the latter, what would he do then? 

Enjolras sighed, rubbed his eyes and looked back at the brunet, finally seeing him as less than a god, less than a devil or a martyr or a saviour. He was a man. He had come down from the pedestal Enjolras had built for him, made from his love, devotion and blinded ideals. He wasn’t capable of miracles or tainting, he wouldn’t die for or save a cause, he was human, he was flawed, but Grantaire was all the more beautiful for it. 

And Enjolras, Enjolras needed saving.

**Author's Note:**

> I have to confess I found this chapter really hard to write, this isn't one of my favourite Halsey songs and I don't know, a lot of Enjolras' issues are the same as Grantaire's so I tried really hard not to repeat them. It's also very short because of this. I guess it's reflective of them but I'm not sure about this chapter so sorry. I'll try to update the next one quickly to make up for it - though you might not thank me much...
> 
> Title from Coming Down - Halsey. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and keeping on with the series if you've got this far! You can find me on Tumblr as Beelzebertha, feel free to talk headcanons


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